


In the Summertime

by SearchingForMercury



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sicily - Freeform, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingForMercury/pseuds/SearchingForMercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While out and about on the town, Lovino gets stopped by a boy who is lost. Unfortunately, he doesn't know an ounce of Italian.</p><p>----</p><p>Written for daemonrolling [tumblr] for answering a question of mine :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Summertime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexdamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/gifts).



Lovino had hazelnut gelato on his face when he first met him. It was dribbling down the sides of the cardboard cup, making his fingers sticky, and he squinted up at him, wondering if there was a better way to tell him to get the fuck out of the sun, that it was making his eyeballs rot. He had a hard time figuring out if the other boy was smiling or smirking, with how shadowed his face was, but he was beginning to care less and less. Because the idiot was speaking Spanish.

"What the fuck are you even saying?" he asked.

The other boy stopped talking -- stopped _smiling_ \-- and his tongue came out to settle between his teeth. After a moment of just standing there, eyebrows furrowed a bit, the boy cringed a little and said, "Do you speak Italian?"

"No shit, stupid," Lovino replied. They were in Sicily -- what the fuck did he think he spoke?

"I cannot speak well," the boy said. "Only Spanish."

Yeah. Lovino got that.

Lovino sighed and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well what do you want?" he asked and glanced down the street. Foreigners didn't often come to Catania, but the boy didn't really stand out in appearance, so no one had taken notice yet. 

"I'm lost," the boy replied and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. The creases were weathered down, like it had been folded and unfolded many times. "I need to be here."

Lovino squinted at it, bright in the sunlight. "Yeah, I know where this is," he said. "I guess I could bring you there." 

He perked up immediately, shoulders lifting along with the smile that grew on his face. It was the sort of expression that could gather people, Lovino imagined, make others eager to be his friend. Lovino had to wonder what sort of blissful life this guy had to have had in order to smile like that. 

"Thank you," he said.

Lovino only sort of hummed in response, giving him a look that he hoped look scrutinizing, before taking off down the street. He dug his plastic spoon into the gelato and took another mouthful, licking his lips when he had finished.

\----

The second time they met was in a cafe, in the outdoors part with a roof and no walls. Rain was beating down against the tarp covering, creating a drumming noise that would have been soothing had Lovino not been caught up in it with a book. The pages were soft and difficult to turn; they would be warped forever and it was Lovino's fault. 

It was as he was sitting at a table, well away from the sides where the rain could no longer get him, when the stupid Spanish boy ran in. His dark curls were dripping and his shirt clung to his skin, hanging heavy from his limbs. Not that Lovino was watching or anything. The boy picked at his shirt with an unreadable expression, though Lovino could imagine it was not a happy one. Then he looked up.

Lovino began reading his book with a fury that shouldn't have been real. 

"Hello!" the boy said and plopped down in one of the chairs at his table. His breathing was uneven -- he definitely ran for cover, then. Water was coming off of roofs in streams, catching the people who were too busy watching their own step by surprise.

"What the fuck do you want?" Lovino grumbled, lifting his book a little more. Maybe he would get the hint and leave.

The boy stared at him with his stupid smile and Lovino almost asked him if the water had gotten into his head when he responded. "We met before," he said.

Lovino lowered his book and gave him his best 'you are the dumbest piece of shit I've ever had the misfortune of knowing.'

"You brought me home."

He rolled his eyes, jammed a piece of paper in between the pages, and tossed the soggy book on the table. "Yeah, and?"

"My name is Antonio," he said, holding out a hand.

Lovino stared at it before giving his own. "What are you even doing here?" he asked.

Antonio didn't seem bothered that Lovino didn't want to shake his hand, but instead looked towards where the rain was splashing onto the streets. He gestured to it and said, "It's raining."

Lovino could have smacked his head against the table. " _No_ ," he said. "Why are you in _Italy_?"

Judging from his expression, Antonio understood what he had just asked, but he had to dig out a little pocket dictionary from his cargo shorts in order to respond. "I'm visiting family," he said. "We are here for a month." He then smiled like it was the best damn thing in the world.

"If you have family here, why is your Italian so fucking awful?" Lovino asked.

"We speak English," he answered. 

Lovino huffed. "What a lame ass reason," he muttered.

Antonio was quiet for a little while after that. Lovino turned his attention back to the rain, half wondering if he could pick up his book again. He always liked the rain, though they didn't get much during the summer. If he had known the sky would erupt on him, he would have stayed home and had the window-door to the balcony open, letting in the soft smells of rain. It would have been a lazy day -- lazier than the one he had planned.

"If you aren't busy, could you show me around?" Antonio asked, reading some words from his little dictionary again. 

" _Now_?!"

Antonio shook his head as if going, "No, no, not that, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry."

Lovino leaned back a little. "Maybe some other day," he muttered. "Yeah. Sure, I guess."

He would never admit that seeing Antonio's face relax into the biggest, glowing smile he had ever seen would be worth the tour he would have to give the boy. But if he was being honest -- and he never was -- he would have to say that guy had the best smile he had ever seen. He had noticed it before, when they first met, but now he knew it wasn't a onetime deal.

\----

He lost track of how many times he met with him after meeting with him the third time. The days sort of blended, mixed and mingled, and Lovino had a hard time picking one event from a day without confusing it with another. He showed him Aci Castello, the fort along the ocean. It wasn't much, just some old, damp building with dark stones and the Italian flag at the top. The cannon was covered in graffiti -- people signing their names like they could be remembered that way, when they were long gone.

Whenever they got hungry, they would visit a restaurant one of Lovino's family members owned -- nothing beat free food. And when they got tired, they would sit in the shade of the trees or the buildings and talk. It was mostly Lovino doing the talking, but Antonio would always respond with a comment or a question, even if it wasn't the right one. Other times he would drift off, head bent back against the rough stone walls. Times like those, Lovino would pull out a book and read until Antonio woke up.

Then there were the times they swam in the ocean. Finding a beach with sand in Sicily was difficult, but finding one in Catania was impossible. Their beaches were full of dark grey rocks and the local kids would stretch out on them. It wasn't a difficult feat, getting Antonio into the water. He was hesitant at first and Lovino guessed it was because it was the ocean or maybe because the people there liked to look at foreigners. He _did_ start speaking rapid fire Spanish.

"You see this?" Lovino said and lifted a piece of something green from the shore. He dropped it into Antonio's hand, both of them still wet from their swim. He was trying to ignore the way Antonio's curly hair looked when it was wet. "It's glass. The ocean smoothes it all out, makes it look like a piece of colored rock. Or a marble, I guess, but not as round."

Antonio held the piece up to the sun and smiled.

Lovino didn't want to say he picked it out because it matched the other boy's eyes.

"Anyways," he said. "We should get going. My family is making dinner and they want to meet you."

As always, it took a little bit for Antonio to process the Italian. "Why do they want to meet me?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed. A little bit of color tinged his cheeks -- was he _embarrassed_?

"Because, _stupid_ , I had to tell them where I was going all the time," Lovino replied as they walked back up towards the buildings. "That I had to show around this really big, Spanish moron."

Antonio narrowed his eyes.

"So of course, naturally, they wanted to meet you," Lovino continued.

"Okay," Antonio said, nodding and staring ahead of him. He looked almost like he was mentally preparing himself for something, but Lovino couldn't imagine what. His family was pretty relaxed, as far as families went.

The moment he pushed open the front door, he could hear voices and the sounds of something sizzling. Dishes clinked and laugher bubbled up. 

"I'm home!" Lovino called out. "You don't have to take off your shoes," he said to Antonio when the other boy went to untie his shoelaces.

And that's when Feliciano jumped out, his excitement plastered all over his face. Right after him was their grandfather with a similar expression. His grandmother liked to gush about how much Lovino looked like how he did in his youth, but it was Feliciano who was most like him in spirit. They both welcomed Antonio with the usual kisses to the cheeks and Feliciano pulled on his arms to guide them to the kitchen.

"Come on, mom can't get away from the stove and wants to meet him too!" he said, his words flying out faster than Antonio could understand, judging from his expression. 

"My mom," Lovino stated, gesturing to where they were headed.

Antonio's eyes got wide. It was the same sort of thing -- greeting them both, telling them to sit down and why hadn't Lovino offered him anything to drink already? As the evening wore on, Antonio grew more and more at ease despite the fact he couldn't understand most of what they were saying. 

And then there was Lovino's grandfather, who would practically shout at the boy and Lovino had to remind him more than once that, "He's Spanish, not deaf!" 

It was well after dinner when Antonio looked at the clock and jumped up. "I have to go home," he said.

"Okay," Lovino said with a shrug. 

His mom stood up, looking almost angry, and bustled out of the living room only to return with a paper bag. She pushed it into Antonio's hand and muttered something about how he should come again sometime. 

Lovino breathed in the cool night air like it was the first he had had in a long while. He looked over at Antonio, who was opening the bag. It was full of cookies. 

"She does that," Lovino said, as if it were an explanation.

Antonio smiled and offered him one. "My mom does too," he replied.

Together they walked down the cobblestone roads, all lit up just enough for them to see where they were headed. Despite it nearing midnight, there were still plenty of people wandering about. It was the time Lovino hated most -- almost everyone came out at night, walking hand in hand, showing off their relationships like the entire world deserved to know. It wasn't like they didn't already try showing off through their spray paint masterpieces -- just some scribbled out words confessing their love to each other. 

They ate the cookies together, tossing the bag when they were done. It was quiet between them for a while, even though the street was not. Once, Antonio got closer to him to avoid a large group coming their way and his hand brushed against Lovino's. Lovino stepped away, as if to make room, but he was trying to make his heart stop beating.

"So I'm going home tomorrow," Antonio said.

"Oh?" Lovino replied. He frowned in order to cover up whatever it was he had begun to feel. 

"Yeah," Antonio said. "Back to where _shit makes sense._ "

Lovino laughed at that -- it was a phrase he had taught him, and he used it well. "Well okay," he said and turned towards him. "I'm sure you'll be able to tell them all about your crazy adventures in a place where they speak _almost_ Spanish."

Antonio smiled at him, a soft sort of smile that lingered. Lovino almost didn't know what to do when the other boy wouldn't look away. But then Antonio sort of glanced down the street, grabbed Lovino's arm, and pulled him into a narrow side street where he was suddenly pressing him into the wall and kissing him.

It was over before Lovino even had a chance to figure out he was in need of air. He stared at Antonio, who seemed to realize what he had done could have been bad.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away. "I just, I was--"

Lovino pulled him back in, weaving fingers through that curly dark hair of his and pressing him closer. He nipped a little and Lovino opened his mouth in surprise, but it felt better than before, it felt _right_. Antonio's arms went around to his back and it felt comfortable, being that close to him, feeling his heat. He was sure Antonio felt the same.

And when they broke the kiss for the second time, Antonio pressed his forehead against Lovino's and smiled at him, an almost sheepish expression on his face.

"What?" Lovino asked, frowning.

"Nothing," Antonio said. "I just really like you."

Lovino felt his face heat up even more.

\----

Lovino was eating pizza in his room at the time Antonio's plane took off. It was sometime in the afternoon and he didn't feel much like walking around just yet. He was more occupied with the clock on his wall, though it wouldn't go any faster than normal and it was pissing him off. Standing on Antonio's doorstep the previous night, they had exchanged phone numbers and the promise to keep in contact. 

Feliciano had tried getting him to go to the library with him, to check out books about Germany. He was going to study abroad next year, riding on an art scholarship. Lovino couldn't say he was jealous, though -- who cared about Germany? He was far more interested in the country a couple doors down, in a manner of speaking.

Lovino just couldn't wait to text his sorry ass. Antonio's plane needed to go faster, so he could land and turn on his cell. He took another glance at his clock and kicked at the wall.


End file.
